Devotion, despair and triumph of human spirit

Photojournalist SL Shanth Kumar of TOI captures the essence of Maha Kumbh Mela through his experience of navigating the confluence of faith and tradition at the world’s largest spiritual congregation
As a photojournalist, crowds fascinate me. And here I was, a speck in the middle of Maha Kumbh Mela, the largest gathering of humanity on Earth. Overwhelming, chaotic, and yet profoundly moving, this was an event unlike any other.
For three days, I was immersed in a sea of millions, witnessing from close the fervour and devotion that drew people from every corner of this vast country to the banks of

Triveni Sangam

.

My days would begin well before the first light of dawn, with a gruelling 20km trek to the riverbank. The sheer density of the crowd made walking a challenge. Jostled and pushed at every step, I kept going nevertheless, my eyes on the reward of this unique spiritual and cultural journey.
Spirit Shines Through
What struck me was the determination and faith that drove the pilgrims’ progress. There were families that had walked for days, wideeyed children clinging to their parents, and elderly people perched on younger shoulders — all driven by the sacred calling of the river.
In the midst of this human tide, I couldn’t help but notice the stark realities of a pilgrimage of this scale, especially for the underprivileged.

Thousands slept in the open, huddling for warmth on chill-laden nights. Families cooked and ate by the roadside as droves of new arrivals filed past. The aroma of food and incense hung in the air, creating a quaint sensory symphony with the constant hum of chanting and prayers.
Amid chaos and the daily struggles of ordinary pilgrims, there were moments of kindness and em pathy — strangers becoming friends and sharing whatever little they had with one another, children passing from hand to hand, and the elderly getting help from whoever they approached.

Crucible Of Chaos
With each passing day, the crowds seemed to grow thicker and almost impossible to manage. After being in several stampede-like situations in my short time there, I feared an accident was waiting to happen. And then a stampede unravelled right before my eyes. I was lucky to have enough time to escape being caught in the crush of panicky feet by climbing onto a mini-van.
From the relative safety of my perch, I saw scores of children and women freeze as people around them desperately sought space that didn’t exist. The agony on their faces made me get down and somehow help carry 29 children to safety, as their mothers clung to the sides of the van.

The sight of people screaming and crying as they tried to find their loved ones will forever haunt me. As the night wore on, I would learn that the stampede had claimed many lives. Siren-blaring ambulances carrying away the dead and the injured were a constant reminder of the tragedy. I felt helpless, unable to do anything but capture glimpses of the horror and pain through my lens.
Moment Of Communion
The next day, I stood on a roof, waiting for the

sadhus

to take a dip in the holy confluence. Then the news came that they had cancelled their plans due to the stampede the previous night. I was disappointed.

As I prepared to leave, there was another announcement that the sadhus would arrive at 1pm. That didn’t happen either. I went back to the tent to pack my bags and leave by around 2.40pm. A third announcement confirmed that sadhus and the mela administration had decided to proceed with the ritual.
I again ran 10km to the riverbank, my heart pounding with excitement. As I reached the water’s edge, I saw the most incredible sight — thousands of sadhus, their bodies painted in ash and vermilion, wading into the sacred waters to be in communion with their spirituality.
Exhausted as I was by the end, all the tiredness vanished at the thought of having captured what I believed was a photo story for the ages.
Such A Long Journey
The journey back home was, however, fraught with challenges that would again test my patience and resolve. The roads were jammed, and we were stuck in traffic for hours. We took detours through villages, where the roads were narrow and winding.

When we finally reached the main road, we were diverted again, adding hours to our journey. I missed my flight and had to wait another day to head home.
In a way, the assignment ended just as it had started. Within minutes of reaching the media centre in Prayagraj on the day of our arrival, our belongings had been stolen from the car. This happened in the five-minute window that we were away collecting our media passes. I lost my clothes and two bags containing documents and hard disks were gone. For three days, I had to make do with a jacket and a blanket shared by a colleague.
As I look back on the trip, the overriding feeling is of fulfilment. The experience was not just a story captured through my lens, but a life lesson in perseverance and the shared essence of our individual journeys. It’s a story I will carry with me.